"Wake up, beautiful."

Arizona woke up to the smell of coffee in her nose and the feeling of fingers stroking the hair away from her temple, behind her ear. Her eyes opened just in time to see Joanne sit next to her, coffee cup from a cart downstairs in hand and a bright smile on her face as her hand continued to stroke through Arizona's hair.

When green eyes met blue, the redhead's smile grew even bigger, "Good morning." The signs of strain clearly showed around the corners of her grin, and the hand that was in blonde hair behind her ear momentarily paused, "You slept at the hospital again. I thought you said you were coming home last night?"

Arizona had said that. She could recall her wife sidling up to her while she'd been filling out charts at the nurses' station last night, asking in a near-begging tone if she would sleep at home. And she remembered looking up into sad emerald eyes and sighing, saying that as long as no emergencies came up, she'd be coming home.

Lifting her fist, she rubbed at her eye, yawning as she sat up, the action resulting in Joanne's hand falling limply to the pillow under her head, "Sorry. Right near the end of my shift, an ambulance came in with a car crash; it was bad."

The irritation was still clear on the redhead's features, but she forced a smile, "And I guess as the trauma fellow, it was your duty to stay. How is everyone who came in?"

Accepting the coffee, she leaned back against the wall, "Mostly fine. The driver was the worst; his ribs were crushed, his femur –"

She broke off as a long, slim finger pressed against her lips, "I'm sure with you there, he's fine, now." She bit her lip, before scooting in closer, "So last night, I was hoping we could… and then you didn't come home, so I was thinking that because I have an hour before my shift starts…"

Arizona could read the look in the eyes she'd been looking into for seventeen years, since she was a teenager, like a book; she knew the glint in those emerald greens. It used to excite her, thrill her. In response, she would have wrapped her arms around that lean waist and roll them so that long, lean body was trapped under hers – after many years, knowing how to work in these small on-call room beds – planting kisses down the column of her pale neck, making sure to flick the freckles she knew by memory with her tongue.

What she actually did in response was shake her head, scooting to the edge of the bed to sit next to her wife, though feet apart, "Not now; I have surgery in less than…" she checked her watch,
"forty-five minutes, and I want to check on the patient before I go," she mumbled, then rested the coffee on the ground to life her arms up in a stretch, feeling her vertebrae pop into place.

And because she sensed her wife's movement – she knew Joanne was going to reach out and touch her shoulder – she cut her stretching short and stood up, just out of reach, turning to face her just as those slim shoulder slumped, and a red eyebrow arched, "I thought we were going to try? To work on us?"

Frustrated, one hand came to rest on her hip while the other rubbed at her forehead, "What do you want me to say? There was a trauma last night; I'm the trauma fellow. I have a patient who needs surgery. I can't just blow that off because you want to have sex."

The words snapped from her mouth harshly, and Joanne's eyes widened at them, before narrowing, "You used to! We used to cut surgeries close and fool around in the hospital all of the time –"

"Before you cheated on me with your scrub nurse!" she couldn't even believe Joanne was giving her attitude about not having sex with her when she'd barely been able to look her in the eye for almost two months.

It had been six weeks since she'd walked in on her wife having sex with said nurse as she'd walked into an on-call room. Joanne had tearfully admitted that it had happened five other times in the last two months, with this same woman.

For the first three weeks, Arizona had been unable to go back to their house. She'd slept in the hospital for fifteen nights straight, lived in different pairs of scrubs, and on the coffee from the cart that she knew her wife disliked. She disliked it, too, but she'd rather have shitty coffee than have to see Joanne while she contemplated what their future would be.

And then her wife had sought her out, asking if they would be able to work it out. So she'd promised that she would try. But it wasn't nearly as easy as it was for her to move on as it apparently was for Joanne. Though, she would give her wife this much credit: she had been doing anything she could think of in order to make Arizona see that she was trying to make up for her infidelity.

Sighing, she crossed her arms, "I'm doing my best, Joanne."

Big green eyes looked up at her, the tension seeping out of her and her usually impeccable posture hunching forward, "I know. I'm sorry. Do you think you'll be coming home tonight?"

Arizona bit her lip, "Yes. But you know I'm going to be home a little late, because it's –"

Joanne pulled a face, one Arizona – like all of the redhead's other faces – was so familiar with. It was one if dislike mixed with mocking, "It's her bachelorette party. I know. I've only been at the hospital for ten minutes and I've already heard at least ten women talking about how exciting it's going to be."

Blue eyes rolled, "It's been almost four years since Callie started her residency here, and I still have yet to hear a valid reason of why you don't like her. And if you've forgotten, you were invited to come out tonight, too."

"Because… because. She has an attitude and an ego, and she has ever since she started. And people drool over her like she's too gorgeous for words, and she's not as great as she thinks she is," Joanne huffed, crossing her arms.

As they stood in mirroring positions, Arizona was the first one to break, reaching up to pull her hair into a ponytail, snapping the elastic off of her wrist, "Fine; you can dislike whoever you want. But it's been a while since we went out together, and apparently the club they're going to is supposed to be awesome. Why don't we just go together?"

But Joanne wasn't giving in, "I just think it would be better for us if we stayed in together; how long has it been since we've done that? How is going out to a club with Dr. Torres and all of the residents going to help us? How is that "working on our marriage"?"

They were in a stand-off, both staring at each other. Arizona wanted to point out to her wife – not for the first time – that it had been quite a while since they'd stayed in together because being there with her, alone, just the two of them, after the affair – was hard for her. She wanted to point out that it wasn't just residents who were going to be at the bachelorette party tonight, but many of the people they worked with at the hospital. Unlike traditional bachelorette parties, this was open for many more women than just the bride's close friends, as an entire club had been rented to throw a huge party. Arizona didn't know all of the details, but she thought it had something to do with the amount of money the groom's family had as well as the people who were planning it were big partiers. Or something along those lines.

Regardless, she didn't say those things. She'd had enough of fighting for a lifetime in the last six weeks, and after the beginning, it just got easier to do things like sleep in the hospital or stop talking to her when it became too much.

And to fight over whether or not to go to a bachelorette party was just nowhere near on the top of the list of things to stress about in their marriage. So Arizona just let out a deep breath, "You know what, fine. I won't go out tonight."

Joanne's eyebrows raised, "Really? Will – can I make you dinner? I mean, it might be a late dinner because I don't get off until nearly nine, but –"

She was interrupted by Arizona's pager, and blue eyes scanned it, "It's a 9-1-1 from the guy I have surgery on soon – I have to go." She took a few steps over to the bed and reached down next to Joanne to retrieve the now cooled cup, "Thanks for the coffee," she called over her shoulder, as she walked toward the door.

"Tonight!" her wife's voice called out from behind her, but the door was already swinging closed behind Arizona so she could easily pretend she didn't hear her.

Following the page, she ran to the scrub room, quickly washing her hands in the sink as she could see Callie already working inside of the room. This was the man whose ribs had been crushed and femur shattered, internal injuries galore; they'd worked for hours into the early morning just to stabilize him until the surgery they'd planned on doing. But apparently he hadn't been able to make it that long.

All in all, having a wake up argument with her wife, then having a patient code before surgery, and looking forward to going home to spend time with a woman that she didn't know how to spend time with right now… the day was shaping up to be one that would probably demand more than that one cup of coffee she'd had to chug and then toss in the garbage moments ago.

Entering the room, the dark eyes that belonged to the ortho resident flicked to her direction for a moment before back to what they were focusing on before. She got a quick debrief, before going to work on his chest as Callie worked on his leg.

Dr. Torres had come to Johns Hopkins during Arizona and Joanne's second year of residency; she was her wife's resident. And they hadn't gotten along right from the beginning. And while Arizona had no problem whatsoever with the younger woman, they didn't really interact all that much until a few months ago, when Callie had been able to officially declare a specialty. By now, they ran into each other fairly often given the amount of bone problems that came into the emergency room.

And despite Joanne's distaste for the brunette, Arizona found that Callie was easy to get along with. She wouldn't exactly call them friends but she was an easy to talk to person to have on the other side of the operating table or an occasional lunch.

After she settled into the surgery, her hands taking over procedures she knew by heart, she thought of her conversation with Joanne. Her eyes narrowed at the cavity her hands were working in as she cleared her throat, "So, it looks like I'm not going to be able to make it tonight."

"Oh, come on, why? I thought I talked you into it last night!" Last night as they had spent hours very much in similar positions to where they were standing now, and Callie's husky voice had indeed convinced her to go.

She'd used the selling points of drinking and dancing, and even then, Arizona had hedged on the idea. Even though Callie was only a year younger than she was, she felt infinitely older. She hadn't been out drinking and dancing in years, sporadically in the beginning of her residency, but certainly not to the type of parties Callie was talking about since med school.

"Do I have to do it again? Because I will," Callie continued as her hands worked, going on before she even had the chance to say a word, "All right, here goes. Drinking. The alcohol is all free tonight and… all right, lately, you've really looked like you could use a drink. Or a whole bottle. Or three."

Arizona finally lifted her eyes, a chuckle coming out muffled by her surgical mask, "It's been a while since I've had more than just a glass of wine or two after leaving the hospital."

"There you go, then. And the dancing! Apparently, there's going to be a DJ who is really amazing," the Latina goaded, and Arizona just laughed some more.

"I haven't danced with anyone aside from my wife in…" she bit her lip, trying to think, "Eleven years?"

"If I wasn't holding a surgical instrument right now and if someone's life didn't depend on my continuing to hold it, it would be dropped. Eleven years? Dancing with one person? I mean, I guess if you love someone that much that you only want to dance with them for the rest of your life –"

The laugh that came out of her mouth was loud and harsh and it happened before she could stop it, attracting looks from mostly everyone in the room, except for Callie, "No, it's… we just don't dance that much, either one of us. I don't really have that much rhythm, and, well, Joanne definitely isn't going tonight, so I don't want to have to unleash my horrible moves on the other guests."

Callie's returning laugh was low, "All right, how about this, Robbins; I'll dance with you to protect you. Some of my rhythm will rub off on you, I'm positive."

There were two aspects to those statements that made Arizona wish she could have been watching the Latina when she'd spoken. First, because Callie always gave her a smile with her eyes as she called her "Robbins" which was how she'd referred to her ever since they'd first met.

Even though it clearly said on her lab coat Dr. Robbins-Carr.

Then then sometimes she swore that Callie flirting with her, but the moments were so few and far between that she let it go. But she also knew that Callie was straight. Also, some girls were just naturally flirty people, in general. Or really friendly. And Callie was really friendly.

But, either way, she was a married woman. She might not have been wearing her ring, but it was in her pocket. Regardless of what was going on in her marriage. Which just brought her back to the fact that she desperately needed to find some way to re-find steady ground in the marriage that she felt like she was flailing in.

And she first step to that would really be to go home tonight, even if the idea of having one or two of those free bottles of alcohol at a club tonight would be really nice.

So she shook her head, "No, I really can't. Joanne and I have plans. But speaking of dancing with one person for the rest of your life – I thought you were officially done and off-call until after your honeymoon when you left last night?"

Now, as she gently padded the area in the chest that she was working on with gauze, she took a peek at Callie's face, which was readily facing downwards, as she took a few moments to answer, "Uh, well, yeah. I was. But I was worried about this guy right here."

If Arizona believed that, she would have been a fool, but it was none of her business. Much like the way Callie hadn't commented on the gossip and drama surrounding her marriage, she wasn't going to start anything up with her. She supposed that was the line that came between them – they weren't real friends; people who would talk about the real problems they had going on. They were work friends. Friendly hi-how-are-you-doing friends.

So, instead of commenting on the fact that while Callie might be a remarkably talented fifth-year resident, they did have an ortho fellow and attending who worked here, she just nodded, "That's super sweet of you. But when we're finished here, I, as your elder, declare that you have to get out of here and get ready for the best day of your life."

As music pumped through the club, the bass making her feel like the stool she was sitting on was moving, she tossed back two shots, grimacing as the liquid felt like it burned all the way down. That was how tequila always felt for the first few shots, but she'd get used to it soon enough and then they would go down smoother than butter.

Robbins had told her to leave after they'd scrubbed out, and she really should have left because she'd already taken care of her cases for the next week and taken her time off. But her house was overrun with too much wedding.

She'd met Justin nearly three years ago when he had come into the ER while she was in her second year of residency. He was smart and attractive; he'd asked her out and she'd been unattached and had been unattached for a while. And he was in business, and it turned out he knew her dad. Both of her parents, actually, and they both liked him.

And she liked that they liked him.

Their entire relationship had been smooth and easy. So, when he proposed to her a year ago, she'd accepted. Because she wanted to get married and to start having kids, and those were things that he wanted, too. In theory, it should have been perfect. Because Justin was, in theory, perfect. He never even had problems with how much she had to work, and had come to adjust his own working hours to fit hers.

He was great. So she really had no fucking clue as to why she wasn't feeling great.

Just as she tossed back another shot, an arm that she recognized slid over her shoulders, her sister's voice questioning, "We get into this amazing club because you've been talking about how you just want a night to dance for months and instead you're sitting at the bar?"

Forcing a laugh, she turned her head, "Sorry, I just had a long couple of days at the hospital. Jose Cuervo is looking really inviting to me, right now."

Aria's hand rubbed up and down on her arm, her eyes searching Callie's, "You're not having any regrets, right? Because if you are –"

Lifting her hand, she covered her sister's, "No, no regrets."

She couldn't tell if Aria believed her or not, but her sister just leaned in to whisper, "I'm just saying… Justin is great. But his sisters are insane. You're going to have to be their sister, forever, after tomorrow."

Now her laugh was genuine. Justin was the middle child and only boy, with two younger sisters and two older, and his sisters all lived in the Baltimore area, so she saw them fairly often. The Thieriot family was large and close. And his sisters were a little crazy. But they were always super nice and welcoming to her.

She wondered if they still would be if they knew her secret. The Thieriot sisters were the kind of people who discreetly made comments like "why do they have to do that" when a gay couple walked by holding hands in public. The one time she'd said something about it, they immediately shook their heads, saying things like they were fine with it just they preferred if they would keep it private.

These people who were "going to be her sisters" wouldn't be so nice to her if they knew that she had been one of them. Well, Callie supposed she still was. There were times that she looked at other women – just certain women who caught her eye – and hungered more for them than she would admit.

But whatever. She wasn't marrying Justin's sisters and she didn't act on those rare cases of woman-want. She didn't even tell anyone about them.

As her own gave her one last shoulder rub and promised they would talk later before walking back to the dance floor, Callie turned back to the bar, gesturing for more shots.

She had no reason to feel like this. No real reason. She did love Justin, she knew that. So she just didn't understand why she didn't feel the way she always thought she would feel the night before her wedding. It wasn't nerves, it wasn't excitement, and it wasn't dread. It felt more like indifference.

Indifference wasn't the feeling she wanted to feel before she walked down the aisle. When she'd dreamed of this day, she had always thought she would be so in love… that the person who would be waiting for her would be undeniably the love of her life.

Was Justin the love of her life? Because… if she had to question it, he probably wasn't. Right?

And why couldn't he be, if he wasn't? Then again, there probably was no such thing as the love of a life. That was what she had dreamed of as a child. Snapping her head, up, she felt like a light bulb just went off. Maybe what she was thinking and feeling was the way love and wedding feelings were in real life, and what she'd always thought she should be thinking and feeling was lies!

She took another shot, the haze over her brain starting to kick in big time when she saw someone's purse plop down on the bar next to her, before turned to see a flash of blonde hair sit down next to her.

A smile spread over her face, "Robbins! I thought you weren't coming."

The expression on the other woman's face was somewhere between a scowl and a frown – or maybe it was both, her intoxicated mind was having just a little bit of trouble deciphering the difference – as Arizona gestured at the bartender for a drink, her voice growling out, "Yeah, well, I decided you were right. I do need a bottle. Or two."

Callie leaned back to see that the blonde was wearing jeans and a black button up top – the clothes that she'd probably worn straight from work. But she did wear them so well.

That rare woman-want? Was here.

On the night before her wedding where she was wondering where that missing piece of whatever was missing that she couldn't name was… of course Arizona came. She liked… boobs. And Arizona had them.

She, too, gestured at the bartender.

Callie tossed back a shot, and Arizona's eyes latched onto her throat as she swallowed, the smooth, tan skin moving just a bit with the action, before that dark head lowered again and her hand slammed the shot glass back down, her eyes glassy as she leaned in to whisper, "Robbins, can I tell you something?"

It was wrong, so, so wrong, that the warm, tequila laced breath hitting her face, made her feel more aroused for this resident than she had for her wife in weeks. But knowing that it was wrong didn't stop her stomach from clenching and she turned her head, eyes widening at the closeness of those dark eyes, "Like a secret?"

A smile spread across the brunette's face, "Yeah, a secret."

Her long fingers came up to cup Arizona's chin, firmly turning her head so that the blonde was facing forward at the bar instead of her, "I used to date a woman."

There was no reason, none whatsoever, for those words to make her heart speed up. But it was pounding in her chest as she kept her eyes wide, focused on the liquor bottles lined up a few feet away, "Really?"

The low, intoxicated chuckle that Arizona sore she felt somehow touch the shell of her ear – nope, those were Callie's lips, she realized, when the brunette answered, "Yep. Years ago. In med school. But don't tell anyone."

And then the soft brushing of her lips was gone and Arizona still had goose bumps up and down her neck and arms because her ear still felt warm from Callie's breath. And then the bone breaking caramel hand that had been cupping her chin was gone, too and she was able to take a breath without feeling surrounded by the hot resident who, now that she was thinking with a clear head, was just drunk. She was not hitting on her.

Which was good, because Arizona didn't want her to be, because she was married.

Except, it was awful because as much as her mind could lie to her, her body didn't lie. Her body's reaction to having Callie's mouth touching her body, even in a barely there intoxicated way of simply talking too close, was strong and instantaneous. Which made her feel awful because no matter what was going on between her and Joanne, she was not a cheater.

Nope, that would be her wife's role in their marriage.

The bitter thought made her scoff, perfectly able to imagine the scene she'd walked into right before she'd left the hospital a half hour ago. She was just going to tell her wife that she was going to head home and ask if she wanted her to pick up anything at the grocery store for her to make them dinner when she got out.

And what she had seen was Joanne laughing with her scrub nurse. The nurse who her wife had fucked behind her back. No, they weren't in an on-call room this time. They weren't even touching.

But knowing that Joanne was still talking to her, laughing with her, after she'd sworn that she wasn't… forgoing the wine that she had been planning on, she decided to go more of Callie's route. She hadn't ever held tequila well, but it also got her drunk faster than anything else used to. And after not getting drunk in many moons, she was sure it wasn't going to take long.

The effects of the alcohol were setting in by her third shot, and she had to blink a few times because she wasn't sure if the blurriness in her vision was from tears or… the haze starting in her head. Looking at Callie, who seemed to handle tequila shots much better than she was, she narrowed her eyes.

The dark eyes that she was so used to smiling at her while in the OR or lighting up as she told her a small story were miserable, "I know why I'm miserable. Why are you? This is supposed to be your fun night."

Callie's lips, lips that Arizona was sure made one lucky wom – man – very happy, were turned down in a frown, "You first, Robbins."

Blue eyes narrowed and she tilted her head, "Why do you call me Robbins?"

A smile, a devious one, slid over her face, "Because I know it pisses off your wife. Robbins-Carr. Now, you show me yours and I'll show you mine."

For a moment, those words sunk into both of them, and Callie blushed just a little bit but didn't rephrase. They made Arizona, for the first time since getting married, fantasize about another woman "showing hers."

Which was wrong, and she cringed, before lifting her shot glass and tipping it upside down, swirling it lightly in a circle, now just thinking about Joanne and her nurse, her throat feeling tight and clogged, "My wife's having an affair. Had an affair. I don't know which one is the truth."

And she hated that. She hated that she could see right through Joanne when it came to some things, but on this, this thing that mattered so much… she couldn't tell at all.

"I know. I mean, everyone kind of knows. I'm sorry, Robbins," Callie's voice seemed lower now than usual, and one of her hands reached out to rest over Arizona's. She couldn't remember them ever touching before, aside from just in passing, and now her gaze was just stuck on where that tan hand was resting on hers in what was supposed to be a comforting touch. Her hand squeezed lightly, and then… stayed, as she whispered, "Um, when I first started, when I was an intern… in my first week, Joanne hit on me."

Those words seemed to hit her like a ton of bricks, and she sharply sat up, pulling her hand away, even as Callie shook her head, "I didn't – I didn't hit back."

And it was just too easy – easier than it should be – to picture it, and she shook her head, letting out a sigh, "You know, I'd love to say I'm surprised. I really would. But I'm not. Let's just say it's obviously not the first time," she said with a humorless laugh, reaching to pour herself another shot – the bottle had been left with them several shots ago.

Callie's hand pounded on the bar, "Why do you put up with that? Robbins, you're gorgeous! You're smart and you're funny and you're better than getting cheated on by Joanne Carr. Whew. I've been wanting to say that for a long time."

"Robbins-Carr," she corrected quietly, looking down at her hand, "We've… I first met her when I was sixteen years old. That's seventeen years ago. She's the only woman I've been with, seriously been with, in my entire life. We've been married for nine years. That's not – I can't just give up on that when things get rough."

Callie's big, dark eyes stared at her, visibly confused, "But that doesn't make any sense. You deserve better. You should find someone who treats you better. Who makes you want to wake up in the morning just to see them smile."

Arizona rolled her eyes, "That's not real life, Callie. Real life relationships take work. Is that how Justin makes you feel? I told you my story, now you tell me yours. Why are you sitting at the bar with me and getting wasted on a night where you wanted to be out dancing?"

But Callie's eyebrows just drew together and she shook her head, "I – I don't… I don't know." She cleared her throat, "I have to go to the bathroom."

She wobbled just a little on her heels as she pushed herself away from the bar, and Arizona grabbed her purse with the intention of leaving, because… that's what she should do before she got any more drunk than she was feeling already. But instead, she found herself following the brunette into the bathroom.

Callie looked up, those brown eyes surprised as they met hers in the mirror while she washed her hands. Arizona shut the door behind her, holding up her finger, "You know, he obviously doesn't make you feel like that waking up in the morning to see him smile feeling."

The taller woman turned, and the way she leaned back with her hands braced on the edge of the sink made her breasts strain against the material of her shirt. Arizona hadn't taken notice of another woman's breasts in… very long. She certainly hadn't let herself ever look at Callie's in any lingering glance, but they were a very good pair to linger on, she was discovering.

Even as her mind blamed the alcohol, she had trouble looking away, "Maybe you are the one who deserves someone different. And listen to me, Callie, because marriage is something that you're… in. There's no going back. There… there's only that one person from there on out."

With every word that she said, she shuffled in closer, her feet feeling like they had a mind of their own. But she stopped right in front of her, before they made contact, and she watched as Callie swallowed hard, and Arizona followed her line of vision to where it was looking down her shirt.

That look… those already dark eyes darkening even more, the way they stared hungrily at her, made her feel more aroused than she had because of her own wife in months. And all she could see in her head was Joanne, laughing with that nurse. She wondered about the other women that there might have – must have – been that she didn't know about. All she let herself feel was that glorious feeling of just… being wanted.

It was with that feeling that she reached up to brace her hands on Callie's shoulders and got up on her tiptoes, to brush her lips over Callie's full ones, lips that she wasn't used to. They weren't Joanne's, they weren't the only lips she'd kissed in years.

They were plumper, softer, and they opened on this strangled whimper and groan combination that shot right through her.

The how was blurry in her mind, but she knew there was stumbling and her back had been slammed against a wall, and Callie's hand streaked down her body, fumbling with the button of her jeans and instead of opening her mouth to stop her, what came out was a whispered, "Touch me."

And then with Callie's hands frantically circling her clit, Arizona pressed her hips tighter against her, and her head fell forward onto the Latina's strong shoulder, and Callie's voice whispered into her ear, "Arizona."

That was all it took for her to fall into a sharp and quick but undeniably powerful orgasm, that made her legs quake, and even as it came to an end, before she was done shaking with aftershocks, the guilt and the shame came sneaking in, "Oh my god. I – I have a wife."

Callie's voice sounded more mystified than anything else, "I'm getting married tomorrow."

And then she felt the panic coming, and she reached down, grasping Callie around the wrist because her hand was still in her pants. The Latina's hand, still wet from her, fell limply at her side as Arizona dropped it, stopping all contact between them, bringing both of her hands up to press against her heating cheeks, "God. God. I just – we just – you just. We're never going to talk about this again. We – we were drunk. Things happen when people are drunk and unhappy, and – I have to go."

Redoing up the zip on her pants, she bent to grab the purse that she didn't remember dropping before standing, looking at the shocked look on Callie's face and – she didn't have any words for her. She just had to go.

Now. Good god, she might be sick.

As the sun came in through the colored glass windows of the church, Callie peered out into the crowd of people who had amassed for the wedding, all sitting in the pews. She could see Justin standing, tall and broad-shouldered. He filled out his tuxedo so well, and the smile on his face was crooked and bright as he spoke animatedly with his best man.

And of their own accord, her eyes roamed the packed pews, searching for a different blonde. Not her fiancé, but the blonde that she had actually had sex with last night. Who was not here, though she'd been invited and had RSVP'd months ago.

The blonde woman she had had sex with last night. Well, she didn't come – Arizona hadn't even touched her. Did it still count as sex for her? Yes. Because her hand could still feel Arizona's heat on it.

She was so confused as to how she let it happen. Yes, it had been quick and nearly mindless and she'd had more than her fair share of tequila, but it wasn't a drunk blur for her. She remembered it all. In vivid, slow motion.

Did Arizona tell Joanne about it? Was that why she wasn't here? Or maybe she wasn't here because she wasn't going to be able to look at Callie again. Because the way those blue eyes had looked last night as she'd fled the bathroom had not been a good look.

God. She wasn't feeling indifferent right now. Her stomach was knotted up so tight she felt like she wanted to vomit. But today was the day that, for better or for worse, Callie was supposed to become legally bound to someone else. Someone else who was a nice, handsome, intelligent man who wanted the same things that she wanted.

She shouldn't feel like this. These feelings, these feelings she couldn't quite name that she was feeling toward Justin, toward Arizona, and about herself were… they were just about enough to make her sick. Could she do this? Should she do this?

Then the organ started to play, and she jumped as she felt a hand lightly touch her back, and her dad's voice was behind her, "Calliope? Are you ready?"

It was biggest, best day of her life, right?

This chapter was entirely too amusing for me to write. Thank you for reading and please let me know what you think!