If you read my rambling reviews, it's no secret I'm obsessed with the world Birdieq has created here, with all its angsty (and non-angsty!) dynamics and backstory potential. Lucky for me, Birdie is not just an awesome storyteller, but is also super generous. I was dying to explore the backstory of their custody agreement – which seemed ripe for drama – and she was nice enough to let me. Thank you so, so much for letting me play in your sandbox, Birdie!
The Four Ps
"Now, if you take a look at the second document in your binders, you'll see what we generally recommend as the standard visitation schedule for a child Emmeline's age."
Addison flips to the tab the mediator references. Mark's tense forearm rests on the shiny wood surface next to hers; across the table, Derek's dark head is bent over his own binder.
"Every other weekend," the mediator continues from the head of the table, "and one weeknight per week – without overnight – is pretty standard at this age."
"There's nothing standard about this situation," Mark snaps.
"Mark," Addison sighs. "We all agreed to try mediation. Can you just listen to what she has to say?"
"Apparently he can't," Derek observes from across the table, and Mark glares at him.
The mediator smiles patiently. "Let's all try to stay focused on why we're here. For Emmeline, isn't that right?"
All three nod.
"All right. Let's move forward."
"It's too much," Mark blurts.
"Excuse me?" Derek frowns.
"Every other weekend and a weeknight during the week, in the middle of – everything – it's too much time."
Derek exhales with clear frustration. "Addison …"
She shakes her head, refusing to get in the middle.
"Mark," the mediator says calmly, "remember we looked at the numbers, and this is the typical schedule for children who – "
"But that's in cases of divorce," Mark interrupts, "where the kid actually knows the other parent. Not cases of … being a deadbeat."
"Mark," Addison hisses.
"What? It's not like he can deny it."
Derek is glowering across the table, Addison studiously refusing to meet his eyes.
"Remember, the three of you agreed on mediation," the mediator says gently, "because you wanted to work together to come up with an agreed schedule. Right?"
She turns to Mark. "And remember, we all agreed at the beginning of the session that we would try to avoid using charged language during our time together. Do you remember that?"
"Yes," he says sullenly.
He doesn't apologize for calling Derek a deadbeat, but he doesn't repeat it either.
Addison is just about to exhale with relief that they can move on when Derek pipes up.
"He doesn't need to be here." Derek says to no one in particular, pointing with his pen toward Mark. "He has zero legal rights to Emme."
"Derek," the mediator says evenly. "That's another example of charged language, isn't it?"
"But it's true."
"And you being a deadbeat isn't?" Mark snaps.
"Oh, let's not even –"
"That's enough," the mediator says firmly. "I can tell a break is in order, and then we'll come back together. Five minutes. Get some water, get some air, and come back ready to be the four Ps … right?"
Addison nudges Mark.
The four Ps. The mediator loves the four Ps. Patient, productive, present parents.
Mismatched adjectives. Mark objects on
But at least it suggests the mediator sees him as a parent.
…
"Okay. Everyone got some air, some water?" The mediator glances from one parent to the other. "Let's table physical custody and visitation for a moment and square away legal custody." She pauses. "Now, a typical shared parenting plan in cases of divorce where the parents are amicable would be joint legal custody with shared decisionmaking."
It's so quiet that Addison can hear Mak breathing next to her and Derek's pen tapping the table.
"But even though you have been … amicable in many ways throughout this process, we very rarely recommend shared decisionmaking in cases of delayed parenting."
Mark, with supreme effort, doesn't scoff at the euphemism delayed parenting.
But Derek doesn't seem to miss his reaction.
"Let's take a step back," the mediator says calmly. "When we first started and we exchanged goals and projections, Mark, you said that you encouraged the move to Seattle so that Emme could build a relationship with Derek."
He nods sullenly.
"And that you were hopeful she could build positive relationships with Derek and his wife and child."
Mark nods again.
"And Derek…" She turns to the other man. "You expressed gratitude to Mark for parenting Emme in your absence."
Derek glances quickly at Mark, then away, and then nods.
"And you also expressed your desire for Mark to continue playing an important role in Emme's life."
Derek nods again.
"Addison." The mediator smiles at her. "You said that you thought the more people in Emme's life who love her, the better it will be for her."
She looks from Mark to Derek, and then nods.
"All right. With that in mind, under circumstances such as these, we would normally suggest that decisionmaking remain solely with the biological mother. That means sole legal custody to Addison."
Mark tries not to look smug.
"There may be areas where Addison, you might want to discuss Emme's development with Derek, such as educational, or medical –"
Mark coughs.
Derek glares at the table.
Addison checks her watch.
" – but all zones of decisionmaking will reside with the biological mother."
"With the mother," Derek points out, seemingly unable to help himself. "That means just Addison, right? Not …"
"Derek." The mediator leans back in her chair. "Remember the four Ps. Is that productive?"
"No," he admits, "but I want something in the agreement that he has to – that he has to – "
"What, whip it out and say you're bigger?" Mark rolls his eyes.
"Mark," Addison elbows him. Hard. "Cut it out. You're both acting like idiots."
"With all due respect … you should listen to her," the mediator says mildly. "Moving on. You've already mediated and filed the financial agreement. So physical custody is all that needs to be sorted out."
All. Addison forces herself to take a deep breath as the mediator walks them through the proposed visitation plan.
"Every other weekend and every Wednesday?" Mark looks from Addison to the mediator. "That seems like a lot."
"Under this agreement, Emme would reside primarily with the custodial parent. The non-custodial parent gets visitation."
"I get it," Mark says shortly. "But Wednesday dinner is too much. It interrupts the whole week."
"Then I should get three weekends a month," Derek cuts in.
"Forget it."
"It's not up to you."
"Excuse me?" Mark's tone is unmistakably menacing.
"You're not part of the agreement," Derek says. "I agreed to let you come here because – "
"Derek, stop," Addison interjects. "Please."
"You let me come here?" Mark raises his eyebrows. "Like you let me raise the kid you abandoned?"
"Mark," Addison rests a hand on his arm. "Can't we just – "
"No, apparently we can't. I don't want to sit here and calculate who gets Emme for Arbor Day in 2019 when the bigger issue is that Derek never wanted her in the first place!"
Addison drops her head into her hands.
"Let's all take a minute to regroup," the mediator says calmly. "Keeping in mind that everyone in the room wants what's best for Emme."
"Every Wednesday is too much," Mark repeats stubbornly.
"No, it's not," Derek retorts.
"Okay, sole decisionmaker." Mark wheels his chair around to face Addison. "What do you decide?"
"I think," she says carefully, looking from Derek to Mark and hating the feeling of choosing between them, "that if we only do every other weekend then Emme's going two solid weeks without seeing Derek and his family, and that's going to get in the way of her learning to –"
"Fine," Mark says shortly, cutting her off. "Dinner every Wednesday. I hope nothing important happens on a Wednesday any time in the next twelve years."
"Nothing important ever happens on Wednesdays. That's why they use it as extra visitation for the deadbeats," Derek says icily.
"So we agree on the visitation schedule." The mediator smiles, and marks something on her pad. "Now let's talk about holidays. Have you given holiday scheduling any thought?"
"I have. I was thinking maybe we could spend them … together …" Addison glances nervously between Mark and Derek.
"Forget it," both men say at the same time.
"Mark." She turns to him pleadingly.
"Are you kidding me? He never so much as sent a Christmas card, a birthday card, a fucking email acknowledging her existence, never gave a shit about her until she was useful to him – "
"Mark, stop." Addison grabs his arm. "Please."
"No, let him go on, Addie," Derek raises his eyebrows. "He's obviously enjoying acting like I'm the bad guy."
Mark stretches a crick in his neck. "It doesn't require much acting."
"Mark – it's great that you're such a devoted stepfather," Derek says icily. "But –"
"I'm not a stepfather," Mark interrupts.
"Then what are you?"
For a moment there's silence in the air.
"I'm the one she calls Daddy."
"Because you screwed my wife and drove me out of Manhattan before I had any idea she was pregnant!"
There's another silence – itself pregnant, and ominous.
Mark and Derek glare at each other across the table.
"Mark." Addison says. She turns her head. "Derek…"
They both ignore her.
"Derek," Mark says suddenly, "quick question. How does your wife – your current wife, I mean, not the one you left seven years ago – feel about the fact that you're still bitter that you ended up with her?"
Derek pushes his chair back. "I'm not going to stand for this."
"Then walk away," Mark scoffs. "It's what you do best."
"Mark." Addison grabs his arm again and he brushes her off. "Mark, please –"
"Would you just shut up," he mutters.
"Don't tell her to shut up!" Derek orders loudly.
"Don't tell me how to talk to my wife," Mark snaps.
"She was my wife first," Derek says in a dangerous tone. "And Emme is my child. I know that you don't want to hear it, but –"
"I'm leaving." Mark picks up his things and turns to Addison. "You want to stay with him? Fine."
"Mark!"
Addison grabs her files and her handbag and shoots Derek a deathly glare. "You'd better be ready to apologize if I can get him back in here."
"Me? What about-"
"Emme loves him, Derek. Emme loves him, and pissing him off isn't going to accomplish anything."
"But he started it – "
"Shut up," she says tiredly. "Just shut up." She turns to the mediator. "Can you just give me like – twenty minutes? And also let me know if you know anywhere good to hide a body?"
"Not anywhere good," the mediator says, "but we'll be here waiting."
…
She finds Mark sitting outside on one of the benches on the esplanade outside the building, staring straight ahead.
"I'm sorry."
He doesn't look up.
"It's my fault," she says. "At the heart of it, back to the beginning, it's my fault."
"Did you come out here to martyr yourself, Addison?"
"No," she says. "Well … maybe." She sits down next to him. "Because it is my fault. Where we are …you and Derek at each other's throats … it's my fault."
Mark shakes his head. "I hate the way you let him treat you."
"I don't let him do anything. He's a separate person. Mark," she says softly, "I never knew if he would come back into Emme's life and I certainly never imagined it would happen like this … but he is … technically … her father. And she has a right to know him."
"Yeah, when it's convenient for him."
"I think he's trying – "
"If you came out here to defend him, go back inside," Mark says shortly.
Addison is silent for a moment. "Maybe if I had done more when she was born … we could have avoided this much pain now."
"What could you have done?"
"I could have pushed harder. Gotten his mother involved … I don't know."
"He shouldn't need his mommy to tell him to acknowledge his own kid."
Addison studies her hands. "I know."
"Look, Addie, I know we screwed up, but it was seven years ago. I'm done feeling guilty. And Derek made plenty of mistakes too. We all screwed up. Everyone in this mess screwed up."
"Not all of us."
Mark glances up. "What do you mean?"
"Emme didn't screw up."
"Of course she didn't, Addie, do you actually think –"
"No, of course I don't. But she's in this mess. She's in the center of this mess and it's not fair, she's six years old, and she should be worried about choosing a bedtime story or which princess has the best hair, not getting fought over in court like some … like some …"
"Okay. It's okay." He wraps an arm around her as she starts to cry and pulls her into his chest. "I'm sorry."
"You've been with us from the beginning," she whispers. "There is no better daddy I could have chosen for Emme, and you will always be her daddy. But we moved here so she could develop a relationship with Derek too. You supported that move, and I am so grateful that you did because if we don't do it now – if we don't let her know Derek now – she'll resent us later, when she's older and there's a whole side of her family who are strangers to her."
"I do know that." He's silent for a moment, and she feels his heart beat under her cheek.
"But you still don't really want him involved," she suggests gently.
He shrugs.
"Derek could never replace you. You know that, right? You were there the moment she was born You heldher right after I did. You changed her first diaper," she reminds Mark. "She took her first steps to you. Her first word was dada … and she didn't mean Derek."
He rubs her arm, sighing against the top of her head. "I know."
"I know it's hard, that you … maybe you hate him."
"I don't hate him. He's part of Emme. And he's – "
"And he's your friend," she says gently, "and I do think that the best thing that could come out it, Mark, in the long run, is for all of us to –"
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves."
"Okay." She sighs. "We are still a family. You, me, Emme, the little girls, the twins – all of us. And Derek, he and Meredith and Riley and the new baby, they're a family except … Emme is part of that one too. I don't want to split her up over every holiday forever either, every celebration, and maybe one day if we can just … be able to spend time together, all of us."
He doesn't answer.
"Remember the cookout? Everyone got along then."
"The cookout wasn't in court."
"This isn't court either. It's mediation."
"But you're planning to file the agreement in court. Aren't you?"
She nods.
"Which means if it's a Wednesday night and Emme is sick or upset or scared or – just plain doesn't want to leave, it means we don't get a choice. Right, Addie? She has to go with Derek or he can call the police and have her dragged out of there. Is that what you want?"
"Of course it's not what I want," she says quietly. "And I wouldn't let it happen."
"I've looked into this. If you file the agreement in court – "
"Mark, I could file the agreement directly with President Obama and I still wouldn't let it happen. You know me. Do you really doubt that?"
He smiles a little bit. Addison is nothing if not a protective mama bear. "No, I guess not."
"Mark … the agreement isn't just for Derek. It protects us too. You talked to that family lawyer with me. It formalizes everything, legalizes it – yes, Derek is getting some rights to Emme but he's signing away a lot too – as he should," she adds quickly before Mark can interrupt. "It's on paper that I'm the sole decisionmaker. Me, not Derek."
"And not me."
"Not formally, no, but you and I are a team, just like we've always been, and we'll stay that way. Emme is … all of ours, and I really think this is the best way to make that formal. And so did the lawyer, and you liked her …"
"I know."
"I think it's worth sharing a few holidays to protect Emme," she says softly.
Mark is quiet for a while. "But every other Christmas … Addie, you know Em and I always bake the cookies for Santa together the night before. I promised her that once she could hold the knife without shaking it she could cut up the carrots for Santa, and she can do it, she showed me last week, but if she's not there on Christmas Eve –" His voice breaks a little.
"Oh, Mark." She rests her head against his shoulder, holding him fiercely around the waist. "Sharing her means we lose out on some of those things, yes. But we gain so much more."
"What exactly do we gain?" He mutters it into her hair.
"Emme will know that we did what we could to make sure she knew her entire family. That we opened doors for her instead of closing them."
Mark is silent for a moment.
"And it's a reason, maybe, to do holidays together sometime down the line – way down the line," she amends when she feels his muscles tense against her. "You know, build some new traditions …"
"Isn't new traditions an oxymoron?"
"No," she says, reaching up to stroke the back of his neck. "Everything is new at some point. Everything starts out strange, and then you … get used to it."
He considers this, then holds her a little tighter, and she does the same.
…
The mediator smiles warmly at them when they return.
Derek even manages to mutter sorry vaguely in Mark's direction – Addison mouths thank you in return – but the most surprising is Mark's yeah, me too.
The silence when they settle around the table again feels a little less weighty … but still pretty exhausted.
And they're still on holidays.
"One thing to consider is that many families divide Christmas, with one parent taking Christmas Eve in a particular year while the other parent has Christmas Day, and swapping the next year. That way, each parent sees the child on a part of the holiday."
"Fine," Mark says shortly. Addison covers his hand with hers.
Derek looks surprised that he's agreeing without argument.
The mediator looks – unruffled, like she always done, presumably a requirement of the job.
"Very productive," she says approvingly. "Perhaps we can agree to apply the every-other-year pattern to –"
"What about her birthday?" Mark's voice shakes when he interrupts the mediator; looking embarrassed, he shoves his chair back from the table and glares at the floor.
There's a long moment of silence.
"Generally, birthdays are viewed as a holiday to be shared on an every other – "
"It's all right, I don't need every other," Derek interrupts. "She can stay with Addison … with them … for her birthdays."
He's not looking at them.
Addison's eyes widen. "Really?" She looks at the mediator. "Is that … possible?"
"Anything's possible." The mediator glances at Derek. "Birthdays with her mother?"
Derek nods.
Mark's shoulders are still tense but he's the one to look surprised now.
"Remember," the mediator says, "the custody agreement is what you're agreeing to do, bottom line. It doesn't mean that as time passes and you become more accustomed to coparenting, and things change as the child gets older, that you might not want to make unofficial changes. For example, giving the mother physical custody on the child's birthday each year doesn't mean that, for example, you can't decide to permit the biological father to see her briefly, or to attend a party, or … any number of flexible options."
The three of them exchange glances.
"You've been flexible before," the mediator continues gently. "This situation has required enormous flexibility, and it will continue to benefit from it. You may need to call on the reserves that were helpful the last time. Now," she says briskly, "moving on to pick-ups and drop-offs…."
…
"I'll go get the car," Mark says abruptly once the papers are signed.
There's no reason why he needs to but Addison senses he needs air and a little space and nods encouragingly. He makes tracks outside and she ends up walking through the big double doors with Derek.
"That was … productive," he says.
"And patient, and present?" Addison smiles a little bit, but can't maintain it. "Derek, the two of you … you need to try to get along for Emme's sake."
"I do try," Derek insists.
"Try harder, then."
"What about him?"
"He's trying too, Derek," she reminds him patiently. "And so am I. And so is Emme. Everyone's trying."
"Yeah. You're right." He looks down at the ground. "Okay. I should get going, Meredith's dealing with Riley and she's been exhausted lately."
"That's normal at this stage."
They chat briefly about his wife's pregnancy, and then prepare to take their leave.
"Derek?" She calls after him when he's only a few steps away, and he turns back.
"Yeah?"
"Thanks for the birthdays," she says quietly.
"Well … I missed her birth." He looks down at his hands. "I figured it was the least I could do."
"There will be other birthdays."
"I hope so."
…
"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Addison's tone is optimistic as she buckles her seat belt.
"I don't know, define so bad."
"Very funny." She leans over to kiss him, then glances behind her at the two empty rows of seats. "It's so quiet in the car."
"Eerie, isn't it?" Mark can't seem to help smiling. "And so clean. How about we open a bag of goldfish and just smash them into the upholstery?"
"Perfect." Addison grins back. "And then I'll get in the backseat and kick the back of your seat."
Mark rolls his eyes. "Emme is getting way too tall."
"Maybe we need a bigger car."
"Probably easier to get than smaller kids," he jokes, then pauses. "Actually … I think we have everything we need."
…
"Well, I don't hear screaming," Addison says with tentative optimism as they climb the front steps of the house.
"No, just a dull roar." He smiles tiredly at her as he turns the key in the door.
It's almost … peaceful inside the house.
Emme has been reading to Cecilia on the rug in the family room while the nanny bottle feeds Georgia and Everett in turn and Annie rattles the bars of her playpen with impressive ferocity.
Their oldest jumps up and runs to her parents when she sees them.
"Were you good while we were gone?" Addison asks, stroking her dark hair.
"I was," Emme says, throwing a dark look in the nanny's direction.
Mark scoops her up for a hug. "We missed you."
"You did?"
"We sure did."
They release Annie from her imprisonment and bring her to the kitchen to start dinner; with the nanny feeding the twins and Cece making laborious but enthusiastically independent progress from the living room, it's just Emme and Annie.
And Emme does a decent job corralling her baby sister until she gets distracted folding napkins … and then glances back over.
"Mommy!"
Addison turns at the warning to see that Annie is hell bent on tipping over the kitchen table – she's tried before and it was amusing at first, until it started to look like she had enough leverage on her side to cause damage.
"No more vitamins for you," Addison scolds gently, kissing the top of her red head. "You're getting too strong. Good catch, Em, you're the champion big sister," she adds, and her oldest daughter beams.
Mark and Addison exchange a quick look. Now could be a good time to talk to Emme, with the nanny available to distract the others. Getting one-on-one time with their oldest can be challenging.
"Are we gonna eat now?" Emme casts a longing look toward the roast chicken Addison's been reheating. "Please? I'm starving."
… or not.
"Yeah, we're gonna eat now." Mark ruffles her hair. "Go tell Missy we can take over the twins, okay?"
…
Talking to Emme needs to wait until the twins are soothed to sleep – even if Everett's soothing never lasts more than an hour or two – and both Cece and Annie have been tucked into bed. Or, in Annie's case, tucked optimistically into the strongest crib they could find.
Emme is excited at first to sit on the couch between her parents, eager to soak up their joint attention, but then a shadow crosses her face.
"Am I in trouble?" Emme asks nervously, looking from one parent to the other.
"Not at all," Addison says, while Mark gives her a slightly suspicious look and adds, "unless there's something we don't know."
Emme chews her lower lip.
"Okay, we'll deal with that later," Addison says quickly. "Right now, we just want to talk to you."
"About what?"
"About … your dad," Addison says carefully, hoping Mark isn't cringing too visibly at the term.
"Oh." Emme looks up at her mother.
"We saw him today."
"You did?" She looks interested. "How come?"
"We were talking, all three of us. We wanted to figure out good times for you to visit with him, and with Riley. And Meredith," she adds.
Emme considers this. "Like go to his house?"
"Right. Em … do you like visiting him?"
"Yeah," she says slowly, glancing at Mark again.
"Hey." Mark lifts her onto his lap. "I like when you have a good time at Derek's."
"You do?"
"Yup."
"Oh." She relaxes against him.
"Em," Addison continues, "you know how some of your friends at your old school … Phillip, and Aditi, and some others … sometimes they would stay at their moms' apartments, and sometimes their dads'? And they always knew where they'd be going after school?"
She nods.
"Well, that's because they had a schedule. Like a calendar, so they knew when they would go. So it wasn't a surprise."
Emme catches on quickly. "I have a calendar too?"
"Right." Addison takes one of her small hands in her own. "And you've already been visiting your dad, which is much easier now that we live in Seattle, isn't it?"
Emme nods. "No airplanes."
"No airplanes. Exactly. So this … calendar just means instead of your dad calling and saying 'hey, can I see Emme this weekend?' we'll already know when you're going to see him."
"But what if he doesn't want to see me?"
Mark is holding Emme securely on his lap; over her head, his expression is dark, but only Addison can see it.
"He does want to see you, love bug, we all want to see you so much that we made a special calendar to decide who gets to see you when," Addison explains.
"Oh." Emme considers this. "What if he changes his mind?"
"Honey, he's not going to," Addison says softly.
"But what if he does?"
"He's not going to," Mark repeats. When Emme opens her mouth to reply, he taps her nose gently. "Is that another what if?"
She nods sheepishly.
"You can ask us anything you want," Mark assures her. "But asking what if about all kinds of things that aren't gonna happen … that's just gonna get you all wound up." He kisses the top of her head.
"I'm not all wound up," she says indignantly.
"I know, and we'd like to keep it that way." Mark smiles at her.
"Everybody agrees that this is a good plan," Addison says as confidently as she can. "Me, Daddy, and … your dad too."
Emme looks satisfied, then pauses.
"What is it, honey?"
"This is still my house … right?" She asks the question uncertainly, looking around the living room.
"This is still your house," Addison says firmly. "And you'll be here, in your house, with us most of the time. But every other weekend you'll see your dad. And … you'll have dinner with him once a week, too."
"Dinner by myself?" Her eyes widen.
"Well, dinner with your dad and Meredith and Riley and the new baby, when he gets here."
"An' then I come home."
"And then you come home."
Emme nods, then goes back to the calendar. "Every other weekend…" her voice trails off. "What's that mean again?"
"That means one weekend you'd be here with us, and the next weekend with your dad, and then back here with us."
"The whole weekend?"
Addison nods. "Remember you did that a few weeks ago, when you went on that hike to the falls? And you and Riley had a sleepover in her room?"
Emme smiles a little. "We weren't s'posed to," she says.
"Well, I think your dad was just surprised to find you in there." Addison strokes her hair. Actually, the phrase Derek used was cardiac arrest, but once he found Emme he did send them some cute pictures of both sisters curled up on the thick carpet sharing the younger girl's princess-printed comforter.
"But what if I miss you when I'm there?" Emme looks nervously at her mother.
"Then you can call us, or you can draw us a picture, just like now. It's not any different except it will be the same days every month."
"Just me? What about Cece and Annie?"
"Just you, love bug. Derek is your … dad," and Mark manages not to sound irritated when he says it; Addison is impressed, "so you're the only one who's going to go to his house."
"But you're my daddy," she reminds Mark.
"And don't you forget it." He holds her tightly for a moment, pressing his lips to the top of her head. She smells like the baby shampoo Addison buys and uses on all the little ones; there's something primal about all his children having the same scent.
"Em … do you have any questions, sweetheart?"
"No. Kind of." Emme looks up at her mother's question. "Mommy … are you mad at my dad?"
"No," Addison says, glancing at Mark. "Why do you ask that?"
She shrugs.
"Did you hear something?" Addison probes gently. If it's something she wasn't supposed to hear, she might not confess right away.
Emme doesn't answer.
"Well, we're not mad. Neither of us is mad …not me, and not Daddy. Right, Mark?"
He nods obediently.
"Change is hard, and scary, and sometimes it takes people a while to feel … comfortable, but no one's mad. Not at your dad and definitely not at you."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
…
The first Wednesday of the new schedule arrives too soon for Mark's liking. Addison is nervous too, in addition to dealing with – and trying to soothe – Mark's shortened temper, which seems to grow shorter each minute that ticks closer to Derek's arrival to pick up Emme.
Emme is somewhere between intrigued and anxious; she needs the plan repeated several times, and asks it over and over.
"Tonight I'm having dinner with my dad?"
"That's right, Em, and then you'll come back here and go to bed."
"Go right to bed?"
Addison laughs. "Let's not worry about that right now. We'll see how tired you are."
"I won't be tired," she assures her mother.
Derek rings the bell to let them know he's there, but then returns to his car in the driveway, waiting with a deference Addison appreciates.
Emme exchanges drawn-out kisses and hugs with her mother and each of her siblings and then lingers in the doorway with Mark. No sooner have they stepped onto the porch then she holds up her arms to be carried.
Mark hesitates only for a fraction of a second – she's gotten so tall, but she'll always be his little girl, his first baby, and he lifts her up to carry her out to the car. She holds onto his neck.
"Are you gonna miss me?"
"I always miss you, Em," he says. "But it makes me happy when you have fun and then you come back and tell me all about it."
"Like what I ate for dinner?"
"Yes, I definitely want you to tell me all about that."
"Hey," Derek says. He's leaning against the side of his car with his hands in his pockets. He smiles warmly at Emme.
"Hi," Mark responds. He nudges Emme gently; his daughter, suddenly shy, turns her face into his shoulder. Mark rubs her back.
Derek's taken her out plenty of times – she even spent two weeks at his place during the moving process – but maybe Emme is cognizant of something different in the air in their first formal custody switch.
Derek is patient – which Mark appreciates – not rushing her, carrying on a casual conversation with Mark about the weather and their plans for dinner.
"What do you think, Em, are you ready to get going?" Derek asks finally, his voice purposefully cheerful. "Riley's really excited to see you."
Emme looks at his car, then at Derek, then back to Mark. Mark smiles reassuringly.
"Okay," she says. "I'm ready."
After hugs and kisses she lets Mark set her on the ground and slips her little hand into Derek's.
Addison's waiting for him on the porch; he wraps an arm around her shoulder, she wraps hers around his waist, and they wave with their free hands until Derek's car is out of sight.
"First one down," she says.
"First one down," he repeats, trying not to feel bleak.
"Mark," Addison says gently. "She's coming back. She'll always come back."
"What if she doesn't? What if she decides she likes it better over there – maybe not now but in five years or six or –"
"She's not going to do that."
"But what if she – "
A thump sounds from inside the house, followed by a wail, and then the nanny's nervous voice.
"Like you told Emme, asking a bunch of what-ifs about things that aren't going to happen … that's just going to get you all wound up."
He tries to glare at her but can't keep up the façade when she stretches up to kiss him. The brief, hard hug that comes next helps too.
"Thanks," he says.
She grins and takes his arm. "Let's go see what Hurricane Annie's knocked over this time."
…
"An' then I had a fortune cookie." Emme pauses her story while Mark unwinds her other braid and starts to brush it. "Wait, Daddy, did I tell you that part already?"
"You did, but you can tell me again if you want to."
She needs no further encouragement. "I had a fortune cookie," she repeats. "An' it had a fortune in it. Did I tell you the fortune? I read it all by myself."
"Not yet." He passes her a pair of clean pajamas. "How about you get changed while you tell me?"
"Okay," she says, but takes a few quiet minutes to figure out which way to pull on her panda-printed pajamas. He watches her. It would be easy and a lot faster to get her dressed himself, but then he'd miss the grin on her face when she figures it out on her own.
Her dark, tousled head finally pops through the opening of her pajama top; she's a little breathless, but wastes no time getting back into the story.
"You wanna hear it, Daddy? You wanna hear my fortune?"
"I do." He glances around. "Did you bring it with you?"
"Yeah, but it's in my purse," she says. "But I memorized it!"
"You did?"
"Uh-huh." She draws a deep breath. "A stranger is a friend you have not spoken to yet," she recites, and then wrinkles her nose. "What does that mean?"
"I guess it means … that you should give everyone a chance," Mark says. "What do you think?"
Emme nods.
"But you're still not allowed to talk to strangers," he adds firmly.
"I know, silly." Emme pauses. "My dad said it means that it's good that we all live in Seattle now and we can all hang out and stuff."
Oh he did, did he?
To Emme he says, "Yeah, I can see it his way too."
She's still detailing her dinner for Mark as he leads her into the bathroom to brush her teeth. Finally, after several minutes of passionate discussion on ice cream flavors, she's tucked into bed.
"I had fun at dinner," Emme says thoughtfully as he pulls the comforter up around her, making sure she has all required cuddly toys close at hand, "but I was also happy to come back home."
"Yeah?" Mark smiles down at her.
"Yeah." She wriggles a little to get comfortable under the covers. "What do you think that means, Daddy?"
"Hmm," Mark says. "I think it means – that you're the best six-year-old around."
"I am?"
"You are."
He leans over and kisses her forehead. "Time to go to sleep."
"Wait, Daddy –"
He turns around halfway out of the bedroom.
"Do you even know any other six-year-olds?"
He grins at her. "Sweet dreams, Em," he says, and flicks off the light.
She's still giggling when he closes her door softly behind him.
Okay guys, I'd say that's a pretty awesome one-shot, wouldn't you? Make sure you show her some love! Thanks so much winter machine for tackling the legal stuff I shy away from!